


Fugitives

by Svartalfhild



Category: Firefly, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, F/M, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfhild/pseuds/Svartalfhild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they played with Sherlock's mind, they broke it, but he's lucky enough to have Molly Hooper and the crew of the Baker to hold him together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fugitives

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the encouragement of the lovely people in the Sherlolly tag on Tumblr, I have put together a bit of a Fireflylock fic. I hope it meets your expectations.

Molly Hooper was the youngest pathologist not just on Persephone, but in the whole Verse. She was incredibly intelligent, called a genius by many, but she was still rather modest about it. For that reason, it came as a shock to her when she received an invitation from the government to participate in its most top secret research project. She contacted the Alliance Foundation for Scientific Research and they confirmed that the invitation was not a mistake. Overjoyed, Dr. Hooper arranged to move to Osiris and took a transport there the following morning.

She'd been to the capital city only once before in her life. She'd been a little girl and her father had been sent to a specialist here to treat his illness. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much they could do at that point, so her father died soon thereafter. Despite this painful memory, Molly found that she liked the place. Everyone she encountered seemed polite and friendly. They treated her with respect right off the bat. On her home planet, she'd had to earn it.

The government officials who greeted her upon her arrival took her to a remote facility where she was issued an Ident Card that would give her security clearance. Then they took her to meet the head researcher of the program. He smiled at her and she shook his hand.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Hooper. I've just been reading up on your work and I must say, I am very impressed and excited to have you joining us here,” he told her cheerily.

“I'm excited to be here, Dr. Thomas. The brain is a fascinating thing, even after death.”

“Oh, you won't be working with lifeless brains, Dr. Hooper. We've assigned you to work with one of our volunteers,” Thomas responded, still smiling. Molly was thrown off by this. Why did they want her working with a live subject? She was a pathologist, not a neuroscientist. Perhaps catching onto the fact that she'd sensed something was off, the man put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of his office. “Come. I'm sure you're anxious to get started.” To this, Molly gave a nervous nod and she was led off down a series of hallways. With a quick scan of her Ident Card, she was let into a room, more specifically a lab, at the center of which was a young man strapped to an examination table with various wires attached to his face and bare torso. Dr. Thomas handed her a tablet which had a dossier pulled up on the screen as they went in. “This one hasn't been here for too long, but our researchers have been having difficulty cracking him. We've assigned him to you in the hopes that you're the softer touch we need.”

“What do you mean 'cracking him'?” Molly asked and Dr. Thomas grinned.

“Have fun, Dr. Hooper,” the man said as he exited the lab, leaving her alone with her subject. Sighing she began to read the dossier. Name: William Sherlock Scott Holmes (Sherlock), Age: 22, Height: 6'0”, Weight: 135 lbs., Homeworld: Hades, Family: Morwena Holmes (mother), Evander Holmes (father), Mycroft Holmes (brother, elder), Education: elite, Noted Abilities: hyperobservation, heightened intuition, pattern decoding, deductive thinking, logical acrobatics, physical agility, Potential Abilities: telepathy, acrobatics, Usage Goals: intelligence or tactics. As Molly read through what things had been done to him thus far, her insides tied themselves in an increasingly tighter knot. What had she gotten herself involved in? The government wasn't funding research to better understand the workings of the human brain. They were paying people to play with the minds of young geniuses and turn them into weapons. Molly looked over at Sherlock, who was still staring blankly up at the ceiling like he had been when she'd entered. Now she realized that it wasn't because he was patiently waiting for her instructions; it was because he was drugged.

“Sherlock, can you hear me?” she asked tentatively. No response. She felt the urge to be sick, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Okay, I'm going to inject you with something that'll counteract what they've given you.” She turned to cupboards in the room and went through them until she found what she was looking for and gave it to Sherlock. Within a few minutes, he seemed to regain some of his motor functions. He weakly pulled against his restraints. Molly would have released him if it weren't for the fact that it required a code she didn't have, so instead, she brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and offered him the comfort of her hand in his. His long, spindly fingers closed around her with almost crushing force and she let out a pained gasp. His icy eyes slowly rolled over to look at her.

“Pathologist...24...Persephone...Northdown...orphan...nonth-...nonthreatening...” he rasped before loosening his hold. Molly felt her heart breaking for him. Such a handsome young man (for he was indeed very handsome- Molly could see it now) with such a massive intellect shouldn't be locked to a table, drugged up so some people in white coats could play with his brain. He was a human being, not a sack of meat to be moulded into the perfect weapon. Why would anyone ever think this was okay? “They're manipulating you...just like they've manipulated me.” Sherlock's voice was stronger now as the chemicals in his blood slowly neutralized.

“Everything's going to be alright.” Molly whispered to him.

“Got to earn their trust...contact my brother...secure channel.” Sherlock tapped out series of numbers on the back of her hand with his thumb. “Please.” The way his face went from concentration to desperation fully secured Molly's help and sympathies. She leaned over and placed a gentle, reassuring kiss on his forehead.

* * *

“...and she's landed nice and snug,” Philip Anderson announced from his seat at the helm of an old Mantis class ship. “How are we looking, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Shiny, dear!” came a joyful old woman's voice over the intercom in reply.

“Right. Sally, Mary and I will do a little jobs and supply search while Irene invites clients to rock her boat and the rest of you stay here and attract paying passengers who will preferably not rock our boat. Any addenda to that, speak now.” John Watson's voice rang out across the ship and received no reply, so they all got to work. This was not an ideal time to land on Poseidon, but then again, when was it? It was constantly raining. However, the crew of the Baker didn't have much choice. They were low on fuel and food and desperately needed to earn more money. The frustrating part was that it seemed like it was always that way. They never had enough of anything. Such was the life of an ex-Browncoat like Captain John Watson.

He limped out into the downpour with his gunslinger queens on either side of him, looking for trouble. Well, to be more accurate and less poetic, they were looking for shady characters who might hire them to do some smuggling and thereby create trouble for legitimate businesses. Their best bet right now was a woman who pretty much ran the slums by the dock, Shan. She was mostly into selling artifacts from Earth That Was to people with too much money. Her jobs brought in a lot of credits with minimal effort. It was a smuggler's dream come true. They entered her place of business, which was known locally as the Dragon Den where they found her reclining behind her desk.

“Forgive me, but why're you wearing sunglasses indoors, at night, when it's cloudy and raining?” John greeted with a lopsided smile.

“Effect.” Shan replied simply, sliding her sunglasses up to rest atop her head. “You are here for a job, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You're in luck. I have a vase that just came in for you to deliver to a banker on Isis.” She indicated a crate next to her desk. John, Mary, and Sally, all perked up.

“Deal.” John responded instantly, stepping forward to shake Shan's hand while Mary and Sally lifted the crate.

“Well, that went surprisingly smoothly.” Sally commented as they walked back through the docks. “Looks like we've caught Shan on a good day.”

“So it would seem,” Mary replied with a smirk. They came upon the Baker and Mrs. Hudson and Anderson waved from their chairs inside the cargo bay. The sixth crew member, Greg Lestrade, was busy helping a young woman with flowing brown hair get a man whose face was obscured by a dark cowl up the stairs. 

“Who are they and what's wrong with the bloke?” John inquired to Mrs. Hudson with a scowl.

“Oh, that'd be Anne and Scott Williams. Apparently poor Mr. Williams isn't feeling at all well.”

“Good thing Mrs. Williams picked a boat with a doctor for a captain. And what about this one.” John pointed to a man who had just come into his view.

“He's Zhi Zhu.” Anderson answered as he got up to go to the bridge.

“Mary, please show Zhi Zhu to his quarters.” John ordered warily before heading up himself. As soon as Irene returned, they'd be off, and he wanted this whole thing to keep going smoothly. A completely good day wouldn't go amiss. “Any clue as to what's ailing Mr. Williams?” John asked as he caught Lestrade in the hallway.

“Dunno. Mrs. Williams says it's not at all contagious, so we won't have to worry about it spreading around the ship.” John gave no reply to this. He had an unsettling feeling about that couple and he'd had enough unsettling feelings in his lifetime to know he needed to trust that gut instinct. The sooner they got off of Poseidon and dumped these passengers and that expensive vase on Isis, the better, because that meant fewer potential problems and a mountain of cash for the crew of the Baker.

“Ms. Adler has returned.” Anderson announced over the com and John smiled. Their dear companion was right on time.

“Shiny. Take us out, Anderson.”

* * *

Dinner wasn't usually this awkward; at least, not in John's memory, even when Irene decided to join them, and she was notorious for making people uncomfortable just for the fun of it. It began innocently enough. The crew and passengers (minus Scott Williams) all gathered at the table and dealt themselves portions of various colors of protein. John asked a few friendly questions of the new people.

“So, what's waiting for you on Isis, if you don't mind me asking?”

“My job.” Zhi Zhu answered simply. He seemed like a quiet, direct sort of fellow, and that was respectable.

“What do you do?”

“Security.”

“And what about you, Mrs. Williams?”

“Oh, er, my husband and I are looking for a place to settle. I'm a mortician and Scott's a violinist.” Anne answered uncomfortably. John and Mary raised their eyebrows. These people just kept getting more and more interesting.

“So you cut up dead people?” Anderson asked.

“Maybe not a question for the dinner table, Philip.” Sally put in as she looked away from the morsel of food between her chopsticks.

“Right. Sorry.”

“How long have you two been married, dear?” Mrs. Hudson graciously tried to salvage the conversation with her cheery attitude towards young love.

“We're actually newlyweds. We can't afford a honeymoon, so we're going straight to the finding a home part.”

“I hope you didn't miss out on all the pleasures of a honeymoon,” Irene said with a leer. Mary gave her a warning look when Anne's embarrassment became clear. The young mortician piled more food onto her plate and got up.

“Excuse me. My husband is very ill and I need to bring him something to eat.” With that, she scurried off to the passenger dorms. Everyone stared after her for a moment.

“Great job.” John commented sarcastically. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. So much for pleasant conversation. Afterwards, the captain sat back and watched the others leave to go about their business, whether that was returning to their quarters or their posts. Mary remained with him. He knew that look she was wearing. It meant there was something important she wanted to discuss with him. “What is it?” he asked once they were alone.

“Everything Mrs. Williams told us was a lie. I read the signs. Anne Williams isn't even her name.” This elicited raised eyebrows from John. This was not good, to put it lightly. People with just a few secrets weren't worth worrying about, but people who concealed everything about themselves were dangerous.

“What, so is the bloke even actually sick?” the captain asked with a furrowed brow.

“I don't know. I'm sure there is something wrong with him, but it's something she doesn't want known and it's not an illness like a cough or a fever. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing right now. Let's not go bothering people unless they cause trouble.” Right on cue, there was a loud crash, a scream, and the sound of running. “Wo de ma!” John exclaimed.

Mary took off, running through the corridors of the ship towards the source of the noise. She found herself in the cargo bay, looking over the railing, down at a tall, dark haired man standing in the middle of the room, completely still. 'Anne Williams' was there with him, positioned between him and the airlock. She was begging him to calm down and go back with her. This was 'Scott' then. Mary spotted Lestrade on the other end of the up level and signaled to him. She then drew her pistol and descended to confront the couple.

“You're not supposed to be down here,” Mary called sternly, drawing the woman's attention. She took one look at the gun in Mary's hand and her brown eyes grew wide with fear and panic.

“Stay back! Please!” she pleaded.

“It's alright. I'm just going to take you back to your quarters.” Mary spoke evenly as she approached. This did nothing to calm the woman. The man remained still with his back to the first mate.

“No, you don't understand. You can't come any nearer.” The brunette drew a gun of her own out from under her jumper, her hand shaking. “I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please stay back.” Before Mary could reply, Lestrade swooped in and knocked the pistol from 'Anne's' grip before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away from the dark haired man. This turned out to be an incredibly bad idea, because the previously immobile 'Mr. Williams' sprung into action faster than either Lestrade or Mary could expect to prepare for. He swung around and used a high kick to send Mary's gun flying. She ducked the second kicked that followed and grabbed his arm with intent to flip him, but it backfired. In less than a second, she was on the floor with the wind knocked out of her, watching as he took down Lestrade in a similarly efficient manner that was frightening to behold. As the silver haired man groaned in pain at being slammed to the floor, the stranger scooped up his cohort's fallen weapon and aimed it at John, who had arrived with a shotgun. He was still again and Mary could now get a proper look at him. He was beautiful. From the graceful pose of his lean body to the calculating cold of his blue eyes, he was as stunning as he was terrifying. It was almost unnatural.

“What the hell is going on?” the captain inquired in a slight growl from his position on the upper level.

“Sherlock...stop it...please...just stop...it's alright...” Steadily, the brunette woman came to her companion's side. He did not move and she carefully clicked on the safety of the gun in his hand before taking it from him. His arm fell to his side and he looked away from John.

“Throw the gun away.” John ordered and the woman tossed aside her pistol to wrap her arms protectively around the man whose name was apparently actually Sherlock. He leaned into her touch as if she was his anchor to reality. She probably really was, given how he seemed to be in a trance. Slowly, she slid her hand down to rest in his and his posture completely changed. He relaxed and seemed to fully come back to his senses.

“Zen me le?” This announced Irene's arrival. Judging by her down hair and being clad only in a green silk dressing gown, she'd been in the process of going to bed.

“That's what I said. Mary, are you alright?” John called. Mary eased herself into a sitting position and nodded. She might have a few bruises, but nothing serious. Lestrade, on the other hand, looked to have a dislocated shoulder, but was otherwise also fine. “Now, you're all going to come up, sit down, and have a nice, long, gunless chat about Mister and Misses Apparently Not Williams bringing unpleasantness on my boat. Dong ma?”

“And preferably with this bloke in cuffs,” Lestrade added as Mary helped him to his feet. The brunette woman looked to Sherlock for understanding and acceptance. When he nodded calmly to her, she replied to the others.

“Okay. Just please don't hurt him.” With that, she finally stepped away and allowed Mary to put handcuffs on Sherlock. He didn't not resist and only stared up at the captain with an almost curious expression. They were led back to the dining hall where everyone sat around the table, even Irene, who seemed rather intrigued by this entire situation. Sally and Philip were called down from the bridge and Mrs. Hudson from the engine room. Zhi Zhu was subtly locked into his own quarters as this did not concern him and they didn't need more people accidentally involved.

“Explain.” John ordered once the entire crew had assembled to hear what was going on. The young woman took a deep breath before she divulged everything.

“Our names are Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper and we're fugitives,” she began. The entire room went still. 

 


End file.
